Chapter 580: A New Landmark

January 10, 1992, Friday.

Tokyo, Odaiba.

At nine o’clock in the morning, an hour before Saionji Tower’s official opening, long lines of vehicles were already backed up along the roads leading to Odaiba’s central district.

Sleek black luxury sedans drove slowly down the brand-new asphalt, while traffic police and Saionji personnel in dark uniforms were stationed at regular intervals along the curb.

These roads had only officially opened yesterday.

In order to meet the deadline for today’s opening ceremony, the Tokyo Metropolitan Government had mobilized nearly every relevant department it could muster, finally finishing the inspection and approval of this first batch of roads right before the cutoff.

Judging by the look of things now, all the fuss Isomura Naonori had made over the past few days had not been in vain.

At the very least, guests arriving from overseas could now drive directly into Odaiba along wide public roads, spared from being squeezed alongside construction vehicles laden with steel and concrete.

Even so, plenty of construction hoardings remained along the way.

The Prince Hotel, the convention center, and several office buildings undergoing interior renovations had not yet been fully completed.

Further off, the construction site for the Rainbow Bridge bustled with activity, several large cranes slowly hoisting steel structural components.

The entire Waterfront Sub-center remained a massive construction zone.

Yet even under such conditions, when the motorcade rounded the final intersection and drove out onto the central plaza in front of Saionji Tower, many visitors arriving for the first time fell into a hushed silence despite themselves.

For the black tower had finally appeared before their eyes in its entirety.

“…My God.”

Inside a van parked near the media reception area, Martin Harris, a reporter from New York, slowly rolled down his window.

He had been looking down, reviewing the day’s interview schedule, but the moment his gaze drifted past the window frame, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

It was too tall.

So tall it felt unreal.

Rising straight from the end of the plaza, the five-hundred-meter black shaft gleamed with an ethereal blue sheen as the morning sun caught the neatly aligned, dark-tinted glass panels of its facade.

From a distance, one could still barely fit the entire structure into a single glance.

Yet as their vehicle drew nearer, the upper section of the tower quickly surged past the upper edge of the car window.

Martin had to stoop down, almost pressing his face against the glass, just to catch a glimpse of the white S.A. insignia perched at the very pinnacle.

“Wait, George.”

He reached forward, tapping the back of the front seat.

“Did you bring the wide-angle lens?”

His colleague, busy organizing camera gear, glanced back.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Dig it out. Right now.”

“Martin, we haven’t even gotten out of the car.”

“I know!”

Martin’s voice buzzed with unmistakable excitement.

“Just look outside! I thought the photos the press agency sent over were exaggerated, but now I see they didn’t capture this building at all! This thing looks like it stepped straight out of a sci-fi movie!”

George poked his head out to peer through the window.

Instantly, he froze as well.

“…Damn.”

It took him several seconds before he bent down to rummage through his camera bag.

“You’re right. A standard lens won’t even fit it.”

The two of them scrambled out of the car with barely contained eagerness.

The biting January sea breeze of Tokyo hit them head-on; Martin recoiled, pulling his neck into his collar, yet without even bothering to adjust his coat, he dashed toward the edge of the plaza.

Once he came to a firm halt, however, he froze dead in his tracks.

Because only now did he truly understand where that vague, indefinable sense of dissonance he had felt in the car had come from.

The most terrifying aspect of this building wasn’t just its height.

It was also frighteningly massive.

Viewed from this side of the plaza, the structure didn’t resemble the slender, soaring skyscrapers of New York that pierced the heavens like rapier blades.

It was more like a sheer black cliffside, sprawling out heavily across one’s field of vision before thrusting violently skyward.

The absurdly wide base beneath the tower cast almost the entire surrounding area into its shadow.

The designated driveways for VIP vehicles, the sweeping reception plaza, even the meticulously arranged flowerbeds and flag arrays before the entrance—all of them looked like tiny trinkets clustered at the feet of a leviathan.

Martin instinctively glanced left and right.

He wasn’t standing particularly close, yet scanning from one end of the tower to the other still left him feeling as though his eyes couldn’t take it all in at once.

Looking upward again, the tower’s heavy profile climbed ceaselessly toward the sky, until the white S.A. emblem hung far aloft in the winter sunlight.

That overwhelming sense of oppression made his chest tighten slightly.

Martin had worked in New York for well over a decade.

He had photographed the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers more times than he could count.

He had visited the Sears Tower in Chicago in person.

Yet standing beneath this five-hundred-meter-tall behemoth, so colossal that it seemed almost surreal, an old, long-dormant thrill stirred deep inside him.

It felt like being a young reporter arriving in Manhattan for the very first time, craning his neck up to gaze at skyscrapers piercing the clouds.

No.

It was even more extreme than that.

Because Manhattan’s high-rises made one marvel at the prosperity of a city, whereas Saionji Tower forced one to realize with crystal clarity—it belonged to a single name, a single enterprise.

Staggeringly tall and staggeringly vast, it felt as though the word ‘zaibatsu’ had been cast directly into stone and steel.

“George, back up a bit!”

“Can’t! Any further and I’ll be in the road!”

“Then crouch lower and shoot upward!”

“I’m already crouching as low as I can!”

George held up the camera, looking utterly helpless.

“Martin, if you want the whole building in the frame, we’d better head back to that last intersection!”

“Then let’s go back!”

“…Are you serious?”

“Of course!”

Martin’s excitement raised his voice several notches, his cheeks flushed red from the wind.

“This is the tallest skyscraper in the world! Folks in New York and Chicago fought over that title for decades, and the record ends up landing right here in Tokyo!”

“And it’s not the kind of building that just intimidates with sheer height—look at this base, the facade, the sheer mass! The photos from the news agency didn’t even capture half of it!”

As he spoke, he couldn’t help but look back at that sprawling black facade once more.

“Standing here, this thing looks like it’s about to swallow the entire plaza whole.”

Watching his eager display, George finally lowered his camera.

“Fine, fine.”

He glanced over at the luxury cars pulling into the plaza.

“Just remember, we have to be inside by nine-thirty. If we miss the interview because of some photos, the editor won’t forgive you just because you found a good angle.”

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing!”

Martin answered briskly.

As for whether he actually knew what he was doing, only he could say.

…

Nine-twenty in the morning.

Saionji Tower, First Floor, Central Lobby.

“Welcome to Saionji Tower.”

Accompanied by the receptionist’s soft greeting, Martin and George passed through the glass revolving doors at the entrance and stepped inside the building.

Martin had been looking down to adjust his press badge, but the moment he crossed into the lobby, his steps involuntarily slowed.

He raised his head instinctively, glancing around his surroundings.

“…Oh?”

Trailing behind him, George nearly bumped into his back.

“What is it?”

“Don’t you think…”

Martin hesitated, seemingly at a loss for how to describe what lay before him.

“It’s not quite what I imagined.”

“In what way?”

“It’s too quiet.”

Martin lowered his voice.

“And… how should I put it? I expected them to decorate this place with over-the-top luxury.”

After all, this was the world’s tallest skyscraper, soaring five hundred meters and built at staggering expense.

In his mind, a corporate headquarters like this should have been awash with expensive marble, gleaming metal trim, and gigantic crystal chandeliers screaming to every visitor just how fabulously wealthy the owner was.

Many major corporate headquarters in New York favored that exact aesthetic.

Yet Saionji Tower was entirely different.

The first thing that caught the eye was a vast, level expanse of dark gray stone flooring.

The stone had been meticulously treated with a matte finish, preserving the subtle natural texture of raw rock so that sunlight fell upon it with only a soft, muted luster.

The lobby’s palette gravitated toward blacks and deep grays.

Pillars were clad in dark stone, while the walls featured expansive charcoal-black wood paneling.

The wood had not been polished to a mirror-like shine.

Stepping closer, one could even discern the natural grain and subtle undulations of the timber.

Complementing these deep-toned materials were warm lights recessed into the walls, ceilings, and corridor edges.

The illumination followed the contours of the architecture smoothly, leaving no harsh glares or extraneous embellishments.

Along the side of the lobby flanking the glass curtain wall, a meticulously landscaped indoor garden had been laid out.

Several rough-hewn natural boulders rested in artful arrangement, surrounded by fine grayish-white gravel, with a gnarled, vigorous black pine stretching out from between the stones.

In a low pool nearby, clear water flowed gently across flat stone surfaces.

There were no flashy fountains, no ostentatious spectacles.

Yet precisely because of this, an indescribable sense of tranquility settled over the immense, modern hall.

Martin stood rooted in place, observing it for quite some time.

“Strange…”

He murmured under his breath.

“Everything is black, so why doesn’t it feel gloomy at all?”

“Because the lighting here is exceptional.”

George had already raised his camera, framing different angles.

“Look up there.”

He pointed toward the upper reaches of the lobby.

Multi-story glass curtain walls ushered the sunlight of Tokyo Bay into the interior, softened by dark louvers and structural beams that partitioned the direct rays into wide, gentle bands of light.

Those bands drifted slowly across stone, wood, and the indoor garden with the passage of the sun.

Coupled with the illumination concealed within the ceiling, the entire lobby felt brightly lit without any of the harsh, cold white glare common in typical office buildings.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

A staff member handling international media reception noticed their reactions and walked over proactively.

Martin turned immediately.

“Yes, absolutely stunning.”

Looking around once more, he couldn’t help asking:

“Still, I’m curious. Why are there so few decorations? Did your architect have something against gold trim?”

The staff member smiled faintly at his remark.

“Nothing quite that drastic.”

She paused to reflect before explaining:

“The interior design of Saionji Tower seeks to honor traditional Japanese architectural sensibilities regarding materials, light, and space, while simultaneously meeting all the technical and operational demands of a modern corporate headquarters.”

“So, as you may notice, many elements are integrated seamlessly into the building itself.”

She gestured toward the nearby reception area.

“For example, identity registration, internal communications, and visitor guidance systems are all linked directly to a central management system. Most equipment remains out of sight in the lobby, but our staff can access it at any moment.”

Martin followed her gesture.

Behind a dark stone counter, several receptionists were processing visitor registrations.

Display terminals were flush with the counter, and card readers and phone systems were largely tucked beneath the surface.

Behind them, an electronic directory recessed into the wall silently displayed the names of various meeting venues.

The entire operation ran like clockwork.

Whenever a guest wandered off course, staff stepped forward proactively, offering quiet explanations before guiding them toward the correct area.

Several security personnel in dark uniforms stood near the corridors, keeping an unobtrusive distance from the general reception staff.

They adopted no intimidating postures.

Yet whenever someone drifted toward a restricted area, they were greeted immediately with polite but unmistakable guidance.

Watching for a moment, Martin suddenly understood where his earlier sense of bewilderment had come from.

In this hall, nearly everything had its precise place.

Even the staff’s movement paths, guest waiting areas, and spacing between walkways seemed deliberately calibrated.

Everything was impeccably ordered.

Yet being inside it felt entirely free of constraint.

“I take back what I said earlier,”

he said to George, his tone brimming with genuine admiration.

“This is far more intriguing than those gaudy luxury lobbies I had in mind.”

George held his camera up, adjusting his focus on the indoor garden.

“I’ve got a question, though.”

“What?”

“When we shoot this lobby, should we frame it as a modern office building, or a Japanese courtyard garden?”

Martin considered it for two seconds.

Then, he clapped his colleague on the shoulder.

“Shoot both.”

His eyes swept across the lobby once again.

“A place like this… I bet plenty of people will want to see it with their own eyes down the road.”

…

Nine-forty in the morning.

As more guests arrived, the atmosphere in the central lobby grew increasingly lively.

Executives from Japan’s major zaibatsu, banks, and securities firms gathered in small clusters, admiring the surrounding architecture while exchanging business cards.

Hushed murmurs of awe drifted through the air now and then.

“I hear the entire central district of Odaiba will be developed around this place going forward?”

“Pretty much. Saionji’s own office complexes already cover a massive area, not to mention Seibu’s hotels and exhibition facilities nearby.”

“Truly extraordinary…”

An older banking executive held his teacup, looking up toward the high ceiling.

“A few years back, everyone was debating whether Odaiba was even worth continuing to invest in. Now look at it—Saionji has already moved their headquarters in.”

“And into the world’s tallest skyscraper, no less,”

his companion chimed in, a tinge of envy coloring his tone.

“In times like these, Saionji is probably the only one capable of marshaling enough liquid capital to pull off a project on this scale.”

The group nodded in unison.

In truth, the attitude of Japan’s financial world toward Saionji had undergone a marked shift over the past two years.

Early on, doubts had lingered over the pedigree and background of this abruptly rising conglomerate.

Yet as Saionji expanded relentlessly, permeating various sectors of Japanese society, those skeptical voices had steadily died away.

Especially this past year.

While the Japanese economy remained in a persistent slump and countless enterprises scrambled for liquidity, Saionji had pulled off one major investment and acquisition after another—and had even possessed the bandwidth to participate in managing the Salomon Brothers crisis across the Pacific.

And now, the tallest skyscraper in the world stood fully completed.

Standing within such a building, reflecting upon the enterprise’s meteoric ascent over just a few short years, nobody could help but feel deeply moved.